Katya lived on the fifth and highest floor of her building; a fact which Sasha often forgot and grew to loathe when she recalled. The structure was old, ancient. With its traditional late eighteen hundreds or possibly early nineteen hundreds architecture, featuring floral engravings on the ivory walls and beams along with linear pillars lining the staircases, Sasha almost didn’t mind the lack of elevator present.
Almost.
Climbing the sturdy concrete stairs in the chill of winter was nothing to complain about, yet it became a struggle when summer hit, and the weather outside was scorching with humidity. Sasha regretted her choice of clothing instantly; a knitted sweater, beanie and shorts becoming her nemesis by the time she had reached the third floor.
Her phone buzzed with a message as she ascended the final flight of stairs many torturous minutes later, startling her from her state of focus.
Katya: doors open as always, let yourself in
Anxiety filled her thoughts, worries of unfamiliar people and failing at what she knew she was best at. Art. She didn’t know if Katya had kept to her word and made sure it was just herself, Katya, Trixie and the other girl - Shea - that would be there, yet Sasha found herself praying to unknown deities that it would be.
From the outside, Sasha could hear the faint harmonies of melodic pop songs blaring from Katya’s distrustfully functioning speaker. Voices that Sasha recognised from her car radio flew into her ears, ones that given the option, she would scarcely listen to. Introduce Katya to some half decent music, she prompted herself. The tune switched as her hand encased the door handle, a comforting country ballad taking its place. Trixie’s choice, no doubt.
Stepping inside of the dorm, Sasha was greeted with the unmistakable signature scent that surrounded Katya; cigarette smoke and the cheap floral perfume she often used in an attempt to disguise it. It would have been disgusting at one point in time to the Russian girl, yet as her and Katya’s friendship grew, so did her tolerance and almost enjoyment of the smell. Sasha attributed the fact to familiarity. A sense of comfort and safety.
The room was encompassed in a warm orange glow, emphasised by the attenuating force of the sun streaking through red curtains and candles that Katya had lit across the entirety of the room because mood lighting, Sasha. The music seemed quieter from inside than it had when she had been stood outside the door, barely audible as Katya began excitedly greeting Sasha with an already ignited blunt balancing between her fingertips.
“There you are! I didn’t know if you’d actually come or not”. Teetered the darker blonde, mumbling towards the end of her sentence, slinging an arm loosely around Sasha’s shoulders.
“You had me sold at blunts”. Sasha drawled, sneaking the blunt out of Katya’s grasp and into her own, inhaling the welcomed source of relaxation.
“Works every time-”. Katya paused. “I’ll write a book one day, ’how to lure Sasha Velour’, it’ll be like, a paragraph long and just say ’paint, girls, blunts, red lipstick and an eyebrow pencil’, great idea I’m telling ‘ya”. Giggled Katya, illegible sentences and murmurs rolling off of her tongue like autumn leaves down a freely flowing river.
“How much’ve you had?”. Jived Sasha, releasing the smoke from her lungs slowly, deflating, shimmying passed the other girl and in to the larger section of the room where Trixie and the unacquainted girl - Shea - sat on the antique couch, bowl of popcorn situated between them.
“Too much”. Trixie intercepted, shuffling in order to make room for Sasha on the couch between herself and Shea, pillows scattered haphazardly and a crocheted blanket draped across the arm rest.
“I can tell”. Sniggered Sasha, inhaling and exhaling smoke that travelled elegantly through the air, vanishing in to nothingness.
“Shut your hole”. Katya grinned sarcastically, slotting herself the other side of Trixie. Sasha rolled her eyes fondly, willing herself to ignore Katya’s retorts and laughter.
Twisting her neck around and tilting her head at a minuscule angle, Sasha turned to face Shea, sat confidently with a strong presence despite a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her plump lips - coated in glittering pink lipgloss. Her face seemed to match on first glance, a dusting of periwinkle across her eyelids and a rosé splash defining her cheeks, Sasha observed, her love for coordinated colours drawing her in by a thread of cotton - that hung from the neckline of Shea’s oversized navy shirt.
Sasha’s eyes twinkled, traveling to Shea’s hair, bouncy waves with one side tucked behind her ear, marshmallow pink earrings adorning her exposed lobe. She’s pretty, noted Sasha. Aesthetically pleasing - she mused, though the theatre girl was not a painting, she may have still been a detailed sketch.
“I like your colours”. It was blurted in to the easy atmosphere, sun outside setting in milliseconds as Sasha finished her first joint, throwing the extinguished sword of intoxication in to the nearest empty candle holder; a make shift ashtray. Shea beamed in response, eyes drooped and noticeably blood shot.
“I like yours too-”. Shea shrugged, motioning vaguely to the paint splatters trailing up Sasha’s fingers, presenting another blunt to Sasha in the palm of her hand, lighter in the other. “Sasha, right?”. Clarified Shea, receiving a slow nod in response.
“And you’re Shea?”. The Russian queried, taking the joint gratefully from Shea and kindling it. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
“The one and only, girl”. The exchange was simple. Both girls slightly inebriated and careless, Shea more so than Sasha, left little room for any awkwardness or tentativeness. Consistent smoking since she had arrived saw the bleach blonde nearly disregard and forget the reason Katya had told her to come over in the beginning. Nearly, and yet - not entirely.
Shea reclined further into the couch, posture slouching and demeanour softening. Sasha followed, Katya’s elbow digging irritatingly into her ribcage on one side of her being and Shea reaching over to claim the half smoked joint on the other.
“Designing-”. Sasha stammered. “-Monologue?”. She remembered, discarding her phone on the coffee table in front of her and focusing most of her available attention on Shea, both Trixie and Katya already absorbed in each others presence - in pink and red and green.
“Final monologues for the semester, we get graded-”. Explained Shea, glimmering lips wrapping gracefully around the joint. “-I had some ideas for a costume to go with it, and I asked Katya but she just-”. Shea trailed off, arm outstretching and motioning towards Katya and Trixie, who were giggling in to each other’s necks as if both Sasha and Shea had evaporated, disappeared.
The room was lighter and darker now than when she had first arrived, the ground waltzing beneath her, carting her off into a universe she sometimes wished she could live in for eternity. Where time was a myth and the people she didn’t know became more than known immediately with a flower and a lighter. Where speech was futile in communication and the next day nothing had happened. No otherworldly, deathly hangover to remind you of what, and nothing but fingerprints of ash on clothing to tell you why.
“I’ll help”. Sasha hummed, thumbs brushing across the smooth velvet of the couch, senses heightened, touch enhanced.
“You’d do that?”. Shea arched a sculpted eyebrow, smiling gleefully. Katya turned to look at both girls momentarily, Trixie leaving the couch and stalking towards the door to Katya’s bedroom. Sasha grinned lopsidedly, the lack of subtlety laughable.
“You’ve been talking for five-ish minutes, is it safe to say you don’t hate each other? Can I leave you two? Can I trust you not to destroy the room?”. Katya babbled, disclosing nothing and yet everything, hands twitching. Shea chortled openly, leaning subconsciously into Sasha’s shoulder.
“Bitch, go, we’re fine, go and fuck your girlfriend”. Demanded Shea, ushering Katya away with a sly wink, leaving Katya a flushing, fumbling, radiant mess. Disposing her blunt in the same empty candle holder that Sasha had used, Katya slipped out of the room.
“She’s not my girlfriend-”. Whined Katya over her shoulder, brushing her fingers through her untameable hair. Shea rolled her eyes, Sasha sniggering quietly to herself. “-I swear!”. Finished Katya, voice hoarse and rough, denial evident.
“Use protection!”. Sasha called after her as the door separating the two rooms slammed shut, childlike humour permeating through her serious exterior. Shea shrieked, slapping Sasha’s forearm excitedly, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
“You-”. Shea’s attempt at speaking proved to be delusive, giggles overtaking her body, chest heaving and arms flailing aimlessly. Sasha’s head lolled against the backrest of the couch, beanie sliding off and the corners of her mouth upturned in a content smile.